Harry Potter, 'The-Dragonboy-Who-Lived'
by War Cry's
Summary: Harry grew up in Skyrim, then grows up again in Little Winning. 'One of those ones.' Mature, Gray Harry, uses Magicka and can be a Dovah after age 9 in magical Britain, always been dragon in Skyrim. Brief mention of two Dovahkiin. Name keeps changing, sorry.
1. The Dragon-Man

**New story! Again!**

 **This is getting repetitive.**

* * *

 **Change of some words, mainly;**

 **Avera Kadabra to Avada Kedavra.**

 **And**

 **Farther to father.**

 **Just want to point out, farther is actually a word so it didn't turn up on my spell check, and is definitely not the worst spelling around.**

 **But thank you TheHollowClown, and I guess hornet07, for picking me up on it.**

* * *

 **Re-edit, found out what Thurkrookaaz, and consequently all Elder Scrolls dragons, name means.**

 **Thur Kroo Kaaz**  
 **Overlord Sorcerer Khajiit**

 **Decided to change it to something a bit more on what I want him to be like.**

* * *

 ** _The First Day._**

 _A flash of green light, the sound of someone crying out in pain. A beautiful being entered his vision, telling him everything will be fine, no-one would hurt him. Words yelled, the door bursts open in a small explosion, a figure that looks barely Human._

 _"Stand aside! **Harry Potter**... Must. Die!"_

 _The final moments of a hopeful defiant, "No! Take anything, take my life! But please, please! Spare **Harry**! Spare _ my son _!"_

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_

 _A flash of green light, another scream of of pain, a lifeless flower falls to the ground._

 _Power overtakes the child, baby, barely an infant. An ancient power, a blood of an ancient family rushes to protect him, cover him, defend him from all who would harm the child._

 _Another shout, full of anger and hatred, "Avada Kedavra!" A flash of green light, the ancient power, enhanced through a willing blood sacrifice, deflects the unstoppable, turns the relentless against it's maker. A cry of pain and surprise, the darkness retreats, leaving a figure wraithed in a shadowy cloak. It bends down, the hood obscures the view. An echoing voice, hollow but welcoming._

 _"My master has great plans for you, little one."_

 _It reaches forwards, laying a finger on the child's forehead, above the new scar. The baby moves, squirms, it's skin changes. Scales, wings, teeth as sharp as any sword. Small still, but changed._

 _Forest green eyes stare at the figure, glowing slightly in newly active, powerful, Magicka. The being stooped low and picked him up, cradling him delicately. Before vanishing in a swirl of purple, a tear in the fabric of the universe, taking the baby dragon with him._

* * *

 ** _The Sixth Evening Star._**

 _A dragon sat before a adult Orsimer, smaller than it's brethren by a third the size. The dragon's tail tucked under it leg to stop it from thumping the ground in excitement while it listened to the Orsimer tell a tale._

 _"And then, **Goraan** , as the dust settled and the great Dragon Alduin, the World Eater, had fallen for the last time. Then, and only then, I had found you... My son." The Orsimer leaned forwards, his smile broad and gentle with love. "And I, **Larak Gro-Buruk** , could not ask for a better child to call my own, **Goraankendovlok** the **Everlasting** , son of Larak the **Dragonborne** , mightiest and strongest of the dragons of all of Nirn!"_

 _Goraan's eyes were wide open in awe throughout the whole story, until a memory made it's way towards the forefront of his mind. Larak noticed the change in emotions, for he knelt before the small dragon._

 _"What is it, Goraan_ _?" He asked softly._

 _"It is just, I remember a flash of green Magicka, from somewhere, father. It, caused pain, I believe, and death."_

 _Larak Gro-Buruk leaned back, bringing his hand up to scratch his chin in thought, before he replied, "Pain and death? Green? I do not know of any spell that could cause such an effect."_

 _Goraan nodded distractedly, trying to remember something else, "And... a Harry? Harry of the Potters?" Goraan_ _shook his head, "It does not matter, father, it seems_ as if it were a world away _, now."_

* * *

 ** _The Eleventh Evening Star._**

 _A child rushed towards the Orsimer, black hair rustling either side of a lightning shaped scar that barely glows the darkest of mortal colors._

 _"Father! Father! Look what I have found, out in the forest!"_

 _The Orsimer turns away from the hearth, towards the child's voice, hearing the the tones of his completely black dragonic son. Turned fully around, he sees a random child, that looks neither Nord nor Imperial, in his home, running straight for him, shouting the same tones as his son, in the same voice and the same enthusiasm as when he had first learned to fly. The child slips as he gets to the Dragon-borne, falling backwards as he passes the Orsimer, with a startled yelp that reminds him too much like his son to be coincidence._

 _Larak reaches out and catches the giddy child, still laughing merrily. He had been in this village for near eleven winters, he knew all who lived in it... But not this boy who spoke as if his son._

 _"Goraan?"_

 _The child giggled happily, looking up at the stunned face of his father._

 _"'Tis me, father!_ _Goraankendovlok the Everlasting_ _!"_

 _Larak shook the surprise away, before sweeping Goraan off his feet in joy._

 _"From whence did this happen, my son?"_

 _"I merely wanted to become mortal, like you, father! While I walked throughout the forest, I felt it stuck more strongly than normal, and then this happened!"_

 _Larak laughed his humor and joy out loud at that, "I am no mortal, son. Or did you forget the Elixir of Youth? But now, we must find a new name for your new status!"_

 _Goraan smiled wider, upon which Larak took note of. Tapping his chin in thought, Larak sent a long look over the child that had flames flickering through his hair._

 _Clicking his fingers, Larak shouted, " **Krokendovlok**! Yes, **Kro** will do nicely!"_

* * *

 ** _The Two Hundredth Evening Star._**

 _A pair of adults, neither looking over one and twenty, stood on the stone walls of the fortress-stronghold of Hydranisk. One Orsimer and the other an odd Nord-Imperial hybrid._

 _"I must depart, father, there are rumors of a necromancer, calling himself the 'Lich King'. The rumors say he amasses an army of the undead to make war on Tamriel, maybe now the people could unite under a common banner instead of fighting themselves to Oblivion."_

 _The Orsimer snorted derisively, "Unlikely, they did not unite when the dragons had returned, they are still not united with the dragons hunting their people four, ten and two hundred years later."_

 _The Nord-Imperial hummed thoughtfully, "That was because they had you, I believe. If you were to, say, take a lovely woman until my return from this, they may react differently."_

 _The Orsimer glanced out the corner of his eye at the hybrid, a lopsided smirk making it's way onto his face, "Ahh, I see what your trying to do." He stated, pulling a finger out to wag at the Nord-Imperial, "But, it makes sense." The Orsimer dropped the finger back down to his side while he looked across the plains in front of the stronghold, "I can not keep you by my side forever."_

 _The Nord-Imperial seemed to inflate with the Orsimers words, before the man was slapped across the head by said Orsimer. "That does not mean you can run around lollygagging! Or to inflate your ego, either!"_

 _"No, father." Replied the Nord-Imperial._

 _The Orsimer smirked victoriously, "Well? Get to it then!" He yelled, stepping back to allow the Nord-Imperial to jump over the wall._

* * *

 **The Two** **Hundredth** **and Twenty First Evening Star.**

Krokendovlok watched the pond almost lazily, he hadn't seen his father since the 'Necromancer Incident'.

He'd won, in the end. He'd brought all of Tamriel under a single banner against the Lich King's undead armies and destroyed the Necromancers Keep. He'd also met another Dovahkiin, a charming Khajiit by the name of Za'sien. Together, they had managed to storm the Lich King's private room and slay the Necromancer.

And now, fourteen years after the last of the fighting had died down, he could already see the provinces take up arms for long thought dead grievances.

Actually, it was just the peoples of Cyrodiil and Skyrim making small skirmishes against the Falmer and each other.

Kro attention snapped towards the sound of a portal opening. There, over to the right of the pond, stood a figure he had seen, somewhere, before.

They were clad in a billowing cloak, as black as a starless night. A hood obscured their face, seemingly dragging the light into the dark of the hood, refusing to let it back out again for him to see.

A voice, hollow and echoing, but welcoming as well, "You are ready, little one, to return."

The figure approached the shocked Dragon-Man, realizing where he had seen the figure before. In a dream but not a dream, magic that was not Magicka, the green of life that gives only death instead. Warm words spoken with a hollow voice. A name, his but not his, shouted, screamed, died for.

"To return?" Kro asked the being, he could not tell if it were man or mer, male or female.

The figure nodded smoothly, "Yes, to your home, where you were truly born."

Kro stood up, he was slightly taller than the figure clad in starless night's, "Where I was truly born? I am afraid I do not follow your words."

"I took you from your home, before death could take you, and now you are to return."

Krokendovlok snorted lightly, "You have peeked my interest, if I may, may I take my satchel with me? It was given to me, and it's value-ability is unquestionable. Especially when it creates whatever I wish, with enough Magicka."

The figure nodded once again, if a bit hesitantly, "You may, but where you will go, I will need to revert you back to a Human child... but expect it to turn up below your bed after eight years, your Magicka will be the same, but it will be forced to be weak by outside means. Your dragon form will also be hidden until the eighth year, which will be your ninth birthday there. Everything else must stay."

"What of my father?"

"His destiny is to travel to another world as well, different to the one you will be going to, Lord Sheogorath is under my masters command and will be sending your father there. He was most pleased with the demand."

Kro sighed, took a deep breath, cast one last look across the pond, before turning back to the being. "One last question," the being tilted his head in acquiesce, "What is your name? Wanderer of the Starless Night?"

The being chuckled, it's hollow voice seemingly filled with mirth, "I am known as **Fallen Beneath Fleeting Dreams** , my title is **Echo of Confident Future**."

Kro chuckled right back, "A mouthful, I am sure, Fallen Beneath Fleeting Dreams. May the sun forever shine on your back, and the blessings of the Divines guide you down your path."

Fallen Beneath Fleeting Dreams bowed solemnly, "It is time, Krokendovlok the Everlasting. May you find many great and glorious adventures down your new path, and new friends to enjoy your new time with."

Kro also bowed, "I will look forwards. But, for now, I must be reborn."

The being clicked it's fingers in one dramatic flourish, and then all Kro new was darkness.

* * *

 **Oh, boy. Here I go again, making another story.**

 **Hope you enjoyed, whoever decides to read this, it was... confusing, to write.**

* * *

 **The name changed to;**

 **Vahlok Drem Faad**

 **Guardian Peace/Patience Warmth**

 **In that order, please tell me which order sounds the best, and I'll re-edit it to that one instead.**


	2. Growing Up Again

**Holy... Thank you for the reviews, people! This is, I'm just, and... Just. Wow. And yes, I continue all my stories.**

 **And now, the beginning of the crossover. Warning, deaths are abound, Kro/Harry spent far too much time in Tamriel to just let his 'relatives' get away with mistreating him, among others.**

 **He will have tried manipulating them, which would only work slightly on Dudley but not on the two adults as they are fueled by, well, hate, jealousy or something else. Dudley might become magical, may not, through Kro's/Harry's Thu'um gifting it to him.**

 **Would like to point out, the Thu'um doesn't require Magicka or a Dragon's soul, it is literally just a really hard language to learn. That does things to reality. Kro/Harry already knows the language after 221 years of living in Nirn, among other things.**

 **For those that can't figure it out, Kro/Harry is absolutely OOC. Practically, actually, he is, a different character.**

 **The year Harry was born is 1980, just thought it was interesting. Might end up changing it to a more resent date, for ease of writing and better tech to gush over. Just a thought.**

 **I do not own the Elder Scrolls series nor the Harry Potter universe. Wishful thinking there.**

 **[Jus' get on wiv it, ya git!]**

 **Yea, yea. Orky. Just 'cause I'm pickin' up the slack from other stories, doesn't mean you can have a go at me.**

 **[Oy! Zogga! Get on wiv it!]**

* * *

 **Another change of name, sorry people.**

 **Something a bit more appropriate for Dovah, and a Orsimer father.**

 **Kroniid Paal Kendov  
** **Conqueror Foe Warrior**

 **Think I got it this time**

 **Goraan** **Kendov Lok  
Young Warrior (of the) Skies**

* * *

Kro, Harry to everyone that wasn't himself, could almost say he hated his 'relatives'. There were a few reasons he didn't, though, mainly being that he knew that hate meant that he was unjust in his thoughts. Righteous anger, then? The second reason was that Dudley, his cousin, was actually treating him better, after some manipulation, of course.

Him being older, mentally, seemed to be picked up by the other children, for reasons Kro still hadn't figured out but was interested in. It was only those under the age of seven that seemed to pick up the fact, though. The older children either paid less attention, thought him being older was ridiculous or just ignored him.

The adults never suspected a thing, well, nothing about his age. They thought plenty on his clothes that were handed down to him, thinking he was a hooligan, and his behavior around their children, saying things along the lines of him being some form of bully.

Kro didn't even know his Named name, Harry, until he attended is first class, at the age of 6, in primary school during roll call. He didn't respond when it was first called, thinking it was someone else, so was taken completely by surprise when the teacher glowered down at him when she got over to his table after his name was called. A short while after that, the teachers have thought him either a rebel or a absent minded child.

Neither were true, to the shock of the teachers when they picked on him to see if he was listening or paying attention. Since then, he stayed in the corner of the classes, observing the lessons and learning this new world.

Many things were found during his time in the school, then the library.

Kro was astounded by the history, geography, among others, of this new world. Their lack of Magicka, apart from apparent superstition. Technology, instead, ruled these Magicka-less people.

Cars, computers, electricity tamed like the household pets that are found aplenty.

History, the entire world descending into conflict, not once, but twice. Wars fought over religion, power, tradition. For reasons long forgotten, even when they had still been fought.

Species, only one truly sentient race, no Khajiit hiding as household pets, compared to the races of Nirn, which could be numbered up to forty five, maybe more. The four types of races, excluding the Et'Ada, were of Men, Mer, Beastfolk and Akaviri. Thirty nine of the races lived on Tamriel itself, while the other six Akaviri races lived upon Akavir instead.

And most outstanding, to Krodremfaad the Dovah, were the machines that could _fly_. Not as well as Kro, probably, but they advanced their technology, so maybe one day. One day. He may race these Automatons of the sky, unrestricted.

But first, his exploits, before reaching his 9th year of birth, within this world.

* * *

The first time something interesting happened in Harry's life, such was his dreary relatives insistence that he _needed_ them, subtly or loudly, while they treated him as badly as any Falmer Slavemaster he had ever seen, either to him or their captives.

He was four years of age, still thinking his name was Kro, not having heard any other name that could be his, and was _allowed_ to stay out of his relatives way by playing in the backyard. Kro took to tending the plants, ensuring that he was not seen by anyone that would look in his general direction, thankful once more that he could keep his skills from his past life, both in hiding and gardening.

Then he heard it, the welcomed hiss of a serpent. He was also most pleased to note that he could still speak the Tongue of Serpents, that also baffled the Bosmer when he first found out they could speak to any animal. Apparently, at the time, the serpent he spoke to was unable to communicate to the Wood Elves of Valenwood. His fame with the Bosmer from being the Serpent Speaker flourished like nothing else.

 _"Here, 'ickle moussse, I am hungry. Here I come little moussssey moussse."_

Faster than the snake, an Adder if Kro were to guess, could strike, Kro snatched the Field Mouse that was limping past him. After applying the right amount of force for his smaller muscles to kill the mouse, he carefully placed it near the origin of the hissing. Once Kro was certain the serpent did not see him as a immediate threat, but could sense him, he introduced himself.

 _"Greatingsss, hunter of the grassss, I am Kro, a hunter of the ssskiesss."_

Kro could feel himself being scrutinized in surprise, followed by curiosity and then amusement.

 _"My greetingsss and thanksss Kro, Sssspeaker, Humansss child. I amsss Ssssativa. Isss thinksss that you are not a hunter of the airy ssskiesss. But Isss thank you for the meal, nonthelesssss."_

Kro felt a smile pull at the corner of his mouth, _"I am bound to thisss body until I am ready. I am Dovah, sssoul of dragon, one day body asss well."_

 _"You do not ssssmell like the other Humansss, but thisss doesss not make you a dragon. No sssscalesss, wingsss or tail."_ The serpent answered. While slithering out to eat the morsel.

 _"In time, we sssshall sssee. But you are hungry, yesss?"_

Sativa nodded smoothly, _"Yesss, I am, Human."_

Kro nodded sympathetically while he reached into his trousers, handed to him from his cousin, Dudley, and far too large for him at the moment. He pulled free a bit of beef taken from his _uncle_ , if the word could be applied to such a whale and hate-filled of a man, without anyone noticing. He also had some from his cousins plate hidden in his baggy trousers. In smooth motions, he placed the beef on the ground and was slightly grateful that he didn't need to rip it into smaller pieces for the youngish looking serpent.

Sativa flicked her tongue towards the beef, seemingly contemplating the gesture of giving food. Finally, after a few seconds of looking at the beef with quick glances at Kro, she made her mind up and lunged towards the field mouse then, after twelve seconds to swallow the mouse, she went for the chunk of beef that was only slightly bigger than her head. After half a minute of getting the chunk into her throat, she returned her attention back to Kro, who was tending the plants for a moment more.

 _"You are not like the othersss, Human."_

Kro tilted his head to the side in agreed curiosity, _"No, but that only makesss me ssspecial."_

With that, Sativa went back to hiding in, while Kro returned to tending, the garden. Kro didn't push a conversation onto the serpent, merely content with the friendly company given. The first friendly person in this little village of... Little Whinging, was it?

No more conversation was made that day, before Kro needed to return to the house and prepare dinner. He did so as quietly as he could to continue staying out his relatives way, no need to provoke the easily tempered troll of an uncle, even if he was told to leave the house and so could not do the cooking anyway.

His aunt thought otherwise, apparently, when he needed to ask what dinner was planned for him to cook.

* * *

Kro noticed instances, where his pools of Magicka stretched, and reality seemed to take a holiday for brief moments of time to allow the impossible, even for him, to happen.

One such instance, that Kro saw before his very, disbelieving, eyes, was a few days before the start of primary school. The way his relatives talked about school to Dudley was different to the way they said it to him. Comforting or intimidating, new or dangerous, used for new heights or lower expectations. Kro believed neither were going to be true, Petunia and Vernon seemed to treat their child like a prince while he was treated like their own little slave.

He was cutting some vegetables for his cousin, who hated the healthy and natural food-source so vehemently that it would make any Bosmer proud, if the Woodland Elves would look past Dudley's lavished life, which he was blamed for if Dudley did not touch any food, and cooking a chicken burger per family member.

He was not part of the family, Kro would willingly and happily agree with that. So he got little to nothing but the scraps he scraped from the piles of food.

Kro crept some chicken into a trouser pocket to give to Sativa, when he manages to get outside for a few minuets. His attention was more focused on not drawing attention to himself and his stealing then on the glass vase that had somehow managed to get on the ledge behind him. As such, when Petunia screamed from the garden out the front of the house, causing Vernon to barge through the kitchen and through to the front of the house while Dudley merely threw a glance towards the commotion before going back to watching the television set in-front of him, Kro jerked backwards, knocking the expensive looking vase of the ledge to shatter against the unforgiving floor.

Nobody noticed, too focused on other things at the time. So Kro carefully set himself down and went to gather the glass shards when he felt it, a distinct feeling of his Magicka flexing. Without thinking, Kro focused his Magicka into being with a Telekinesis spell, before spreading it across the shattered vase intending to draw it towards him all in one go.

Instead, the vase pieces pulled themselves together and mending itself until it was in one piece once more. Right in-front of Kro's disbelieving eyes.

No spell he knew could _mend_ a broken piece of ornamental decoration... Actually, no spells he knew of could mend _anything_ , at all.

The astonished gasp behind him had Kro spinning around in surprise, allowing him to see his audience.

Peeking over the back of the sofa, wide eyed and awestruck, Dudley flicked his eyes between the once broken, now complete, vase and Kro.

Kro reached for the vase and stood in one swift movement. Placing the vase back onto the ledge it fell from, Kro looked once more at Dudley. Still watching, wide eyed. Good. He glanced at the front door, Vernon had taken Petunia away, probably to the hospital. Excellent.

Turning back to the slowly growing obese child, who was still looking at him in slight awe, Kro turned into his Trainer personality, head held high with confidence and a nice, softish smile gracing his lips.

The reaction was immediate, Dudley sat up straighter, eyes widening slightly in the clear maturity shown by Kro, who allowed a smirk to creep onto the corners of his mouth. The giddiness never left Dudley's eyes, he was obviously excited about Kro's Magicka making an appearance.

Kro's smirk tampered off into a soft, self satisfied smile, "Would you like to learn the tricks of Magicka, perchance?"

Dudley perked up noticeably, a timid smile crawling across his lips. Almost... No, exactly like as if he were given a opportunity to learn from someone experienced on something he wanted. He was, but Kro didn't believe Dudley knew he was older then he seemed.

"But, you must not speak of this, to anyone, understood?"

Dudley nodded jerkily, haltingly, nevertheless, Kro drew a breath, and accessed his inner Thu'um.

 **"Ofan, Lah, Bolaav"**

 _Gift, Magicka, Grant_

* * *

Dudley was a eager learner, and faster than Kro thought was possible without any spell tomes readily available for ease of learning.

Nevertheless, it still took several weeks of covert teaching and practicing, away from Vernon and Petunia, to get a small Candlelight spell, with a promise to to practice an offensive spell after Candlelight was mastered, maybe the Spark's spell.

Kro must have been a better teacher than he thought, if, within a pair of months, he could teach someone who never knew that Magicka could even exist the basics without spell tomes.

* * *

Kro, or was he Harry?, sneaked quietly out the back door while Vernon and Petunia brought a reluctant Dudley to the front door to greet the _being_ known as Marjorie Eileen Dursley.

Kro didn't want to face the bulldog Marjorie would bring with her, the lies told about him ensured his 'Aunt' would allow the pets vicious attitude towards him. He also knew Dudley only went along and acted nice for the extra pocket money he would glean. Sneaky little boy, maybe the path of the Thief would be better suited than the Mage.

Slightly too late, the bulldog rushed through the house and directly at the seven year old outside. Kro could just hear Marjorie, almost as repulsive as any Hagraven he had the misfortune of getting close to, loudly saying that her dog must need the toilet after the travel while smothering Dudley with a hug. Completely ignoring the fact the Bulldog was rushing at Kro.

Anger flashed through Kro, and an idea flicked through his mind. Darting to the side, out of sight of the Dursley family. When he was certain no-one could see him and the dog, he breathed in...

His pools of Magicka flexed, causing him to halt his summoning of the Thu'um, and, without thinking, Kro threw one of his hands out and sent a Hysteria spell at the Daedric cursed thing.

As the bulldog, Ripper if he remembered right, fled in terror, Kro couldn't help but question if he had overpowered the amount of fear needed to send the dog on its way. Before shaking his head, while still not as large as he remembered and growing smaller, his pools of Magicka were still great enough for insignificant, single, spells to not bother him enough for him to notice how much he had used.

His musing was interrupted by Marjorie storming out the house and using her cane, loudly proclaiming her acceptance of 'disciplinary' methods for mistreating her 'poor Ripper', Vernon and Petunia looked almost gleeful, Dudley tried, rather successfully, to imitate their facial features. No one noticed his reluctance, making Kro slightly proud and more determined to give Dudley practice in the path of the Thief.

* * *

Kro was eight, with ten minuets until midnight, whereupon he would gain his abilities back once more.

Oh, how he missed the feel of his Magicka flowing through his body as it manifested at his will, how it could destroy armies, crumble fortresses, heal the deathly ill.

Vernon and Petunia were the worst relatives anyone could ask for, and they only seemed to get worse. Death was their reward, for subjecting a blood relative, if he was to believe, to slavery for their own pleasure, to draw a form of weapon or assault upon a pre-teenager.

Kro may not know much about the world of law in this world, but such barbarism from relatives spelled only their death, in Kro's mind at least.

He sent prayers to Akatosh for the absence of his true form. To seek his forgiveness and ask him once more to let him join the Dovah in flight. Offering a scavenged piece of pork, the best he could grab, onto the mismatched pieces of wood made into a shrine for Akatosh that is hidden under his desk.

Unable to send the pork through the Aurbis, to wherever Akatosh rests, Kro sat down upon his tiny bed, and waited expectantly for the surge of Magicka.

He did not need to wait long, before his Magicka stretched, reached outwards to his mind as if waking from a forced but restful sleep and ready to greet its master once more.

Kro inhaled in exhilaration, years of little to no contact with the mystic energy within made him savor the feeling that pulsed through him now. Almost lifting him up in exhilaration, as if by Magicka alone he could fly through the air.

His pools of Magicka sped through him, eager to fulfill his wish, and before he could stop himself his feet no longer touched the floor. But he had no wings to keep him up.

Kro could only savor the feeling, it was nearly like he was Dovah, but not quite. He lifted a hand infront of his face and willed his fingers to dance with fire, enchanting as it always has been, perhaps more so now after so long of boredom.

He held himself there for who knows how long, pure willpower keeping his feet from touching the floor and flames playfully licking his fingers, never harming him, not even if he wanted them to.

Finally, he let himself float peacefully down to the ground. Once his feet were reluctantly placed upon the ground once more, he swept a gaze under his cot, barely big enough for an infant. And much to his delight, his satchel sat there as if it was always present. Dudley could now learn proper spells instead of his hard fought, self indulging lessons.

Thoughts of Dudley, one Kro would be welcoming if they were to become family in name if not completely in blood, also brought forth thoughts of Vernon and Petunia, who Kro refused to see as family at all, even with the blood relation.

Thoughts on the two creatures that dressed themselves as Humans eventually turned to their punishments for the 'disciplinary' methods they employed. Kro couldn't hand them over to the authorities, probably, but could take matters into his own hands if he structured it like an accident like he had been planning for years now.

Something broke, and suddenly, Kro couldn't think of something else to do. Like all the other times he thought of killing them.

Deciding on a course of action, Kro took and donned his own personal hooded Robes of Focus, that allowed him to draw on his Magicka more freely, from the satchel before slinging it over his head and shoulder and putting the main part of the bag behind him. Once that was done, he opened the only draw he was allowed in his cramped room and withdrew the improvised lock picks and got to work familiarizing himself with the devises and getting out the locked room.

After several minuets, whereupon Kro relented his lock picking as he could not pick bolts, Kro came upon a interesting thought. If his Magicka could accomplish acts that were thought impossible before, perchance it could unlock the door.

Focusing his still delighted Magicka, Kro sent it through the door with the intention to unlock it. His Magicka seemed to know what it was doing, as, with a dull thunk, the bolt padded against the other side of the door.

Pushing the door open silently, Kro employed his stealth skills and the muffle spell as he practically glided up the weak and creaky stairs, thankful that he was light of foot enough that nothing made a sound as he ascended the steps. Upon reaching the landing, Kro first went to Vernon and Petunia's master bedroom and silently pushed the door open.

Closing the door behind him, Kro contemplated on how to go about it. Not even a second passed before he conjured a bound dagger and approached the bed, thankful once again that the bound weapons did not radiate too much light that it was noticeable.

He made quick work of the rangy Petunia, placing a hand over her mouth as he drove the dagger into her chest in the cleanest kill he could make, no point in stealth if someone made a noise to reveal his position. Surprisingly, the woman didn't even stir until the dagger had pierced her skin, and by the time she could utter a noise her soul was already departing to Sithis.

Sneaking to the other side, Kro encountered a easy problem. Vernon was to large for the dagger to kill him with the same tactic.

Fortunately, or unfortunately for Vernon, Kro didn't need to keep to much silence now. So, with a quick slash, Kro cut Vernon's throat wide open and then plunged his bound dagger into what was left of the cut to forestall the noise he would undoubtedly make.

Vernon did not disappoint, he bucked his arms and legs, reaching for his throat even as Kro dispersed the bound dagger, leaving the quickly dieing body to claw at its own neck as if that would save him from his agonizing but silent death.

Once Kro was satisfied with their deaths, he willed flames into the palms of his hands and then sent a stream of fire over the bed and its occupants, turning everything into ash. After several more minuets of constant flames, Kro was satisfied that the house would be completely destroyed by the time anyone noticed, thankful once more by the lack of a fully integrated smoke detector system that would send his plans up into smoke.

Quickly making his way out the bedroom door, Kro ignored his own stealth and rushed over to Dudley's own room, barging through the semi-closed door and rushing to Dudley's bedside, shaking him awake and adopting the appropriate look of urgency required for the situation.

"Dudley, wake up!" Dudley swiped a hand over himself, forcing Kro to let go for a moment, before going back to rest, "Dudley! The house is on fire!" Kro shouted, just as the smoke detectors started to go off.

Dudley woke up immediately, rolling out of bed and landing solidly on the floor.

Not letting his cousin regain his bearings, Kro dragged Dudley out of the room and into the fast approaching fire. Thinking quickly, Kro dragged Dudley over and then down the stairs, before barging through the front door of the house.

Dudley regained his bearings and lunged back towards the door, but was held back by Kro.

"Mum, Dad! Let go, Harry! Let go!" Cried Dudley, limbs flailing wildly. Kro dodged a random elbow before replying.

"Dudley, it's too late!" Kro said in reply, "It's too late for them! I barely had enough time to reach you! The fire started in their room, I couldn't get to them in time." Half truths and white lies that only Kro would know. But his heart still ached when Dudley fell to his knees in grief.

Kro knelt next to him, drawing the slightly older, in body, boy towards him. Eyes never leaving the burning building infront of him, his eyes the only thing giving away his feelings, somewhere between joy and sorrow.

He no longer needed to stay in the abusive household, but he will need to leave Dudley to fend for himself for a while, alone.

With a deep sigh, Kro hugged the broken child that held onto him desperately. He would have to leave as soon as Dudley went unconscious. Casting a quick Harmony proved that Dudley was too emotionally drained for the realm of consciousness to further greet him.

Kro changed his mind, at that moment in time. Instead of leaving the child to his fate, Kro cast Telekinesis over the unconscious form of his cousin and then sought out Sativa.

Once he found the snake, Kro made his way into the nearby forest, just outside of the village. Just as the firemen's sirens pierced the air.

* * *

 **Next up, Dudley and Sativa find out about Kro's secret.**

 **Sorry I haven't done this chapter sooner, I've decided to go through each story I have, the last one updated will be the next one to update.**

 **Did that make any sense?**

 **Anyway, adios.**


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